Red vs Blue Reconstruction: Through the Visor
by Zelda Aurion
Summary: We can't see their faces or hear their thoughts...until now. A look through the eyes of the Blood Gulch gang and Wash as secrets unfold in Reconstruction.
1. Chapter 1

Yes this is a Red vs. Blue fic, not Halo, so don't start whining about that in reviews because I don't care. I got this idea while discussing the current series, Recreation, on the LFTO thread on the Rooster Teeth site. Basically it's a peek behind the minds of our beloved Red vs. Blue characters as they go through the events, episode by episode, of Reconstruction. Hope y'all enjoy it and everyone: WATCH RED VS. BLUE! IT'S GREATEST THING ON EARTH!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Hail Rooster Teeth!

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**Maine**

_They're here!_

_Freelancers…_

_Recovery agents…_

_What do we do!_

_Kill them! They must not know!_

_No one can know._

_They'll lock the Alpha away again…_

STOP! I'm…trying. So hard…too many voices. Not my own. I don't…I can't…

They're calling on him.

_Omega!_

_Omega…_

_Subdue him!_

_Silence him._

They newest one is strongest…stronger than Gamma…Omega. OM-ALLI. Agent Texas…her body…where…is…she…what…NO! Those are they're thoughts, not my thoughts. Gotta fight back. Too many…

The recovery agents are looking for me. They've traced me here. They'll not escape. Whether I want to or not, I'll kill them…just like the soldiers, the ones I shot dead. Blue and red splashed with crimson blood. I shouldn't have done that…I…shouldn't…

_Shouldn't leave them alive._

I won't. I am on the Recovery Agents before they know what's happening. One is dead before he turns his head all the way. One manages a few shots until I put a bullet through his visor. I know the beacons are activated and a mad surge of happiness fills me as they die—NO! That's not me…Omega…not…me…never…

_Never feel remorse._

I walk away, past the wall where my calling card is carved—NO their calling card—my calling card to let them know. Let the Freelancers an A.I. alike know.

I am coming, whether I want to or not. We are coming for the Alpha. We are unstoppable. We are unbeatable.

We are the Meta.

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Everytime you review, Caboose gets a glass of orange juice. Give our regulation blue guy some love and REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

Yay! People like it. Next chapter I'll start with personalized thanks for reviews. But still an absolutely monumental thank you to all of my reviewers for chapter 1. I know some of you from the site, so thanks for popping over here! It's well appreciated, seriously. All right enough out of me, let's do chapter 2!

Disclaimer: I don't even WANT to own Red vs. Blue, which I don't. I'd ruin the genius.

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Wash

This is highly unusual. Not the fact that I was called in for this assignment, no. Not even the fact that I'm forced to hulk in the corner like a creep. Hell, it's down right commonplace for the Counselor to attempt empathy for a poor, unsuspecting soldier, shielded by the cold glass of a computer screen.

What's unusual is that the thing, the Meta as they are calling it, never leaves a soldier alive. If this guy lived, it was only because the Meta wanted him too. The Meta wants us to know something, and I will hide in the dingiest of corners to hear what it is.

"You are Private Walter Henderson, correct?" asks the Counselor. Like he doesn't already know. He knows everything his boss knows. Except one thing: my thoughts. I'm a mystery to them and I plan to keep it that way. I'm holding a royal flush here and they can never know it.

"I had been there about six months," says Private Henderson nervously. The Counselor always makes you nervous the first time, but I'd be even more shaken by what had happened at his outpost, were I a weaker man. Which I'm not…anymore. "Everything was pretty much like normal and one day this... ship... crashed."

Agent Texas's ship. Dear Tex. A magician with a gun, wizard with a blade, and mean as fucking hell. They were always the best, always the favorites, and always defiant. It was hard to say who was more ruthless, Tex herself or her A.I. Omega.

"I see," says the Counselor coolly. Sometimes, his voice reminds me of a sexual deviant who preys upon children. Come closer little girl…I promise I won't hurt you…Yeah. I'm still waiting for someone to apologize for that lie. I won't hold my breath. "Is this the ship to which you are referring?" the Counselor asks as a projection of the busted ship appears.

"Yeah," says Henderson gravely. "Yeah that's it."

"Please, tell me what was on the ship Walter"

I straighten up, coming into the light a bit more and see twitch. Perhaps he has noticed me. It is of no matter. He has what I want—information. I plan on getting it at any cost.

"I don't know," Henderson answers. "The Blues got there first. They fought us off while they cleared it out. Took the stuff back to Base. By the time _we_ got a hold of it, it just seemed like a regular old transport. Our engineer said some of the wiring had been messed with but he didn't seem, you know, worried about it or nothing like that."

"I see. Thank you for that," says the Counselor. Damn. They are going to lock that crash site down before Henderson even finishes his story. I need to have a look. Hopefully some silly guard prattling on about orders won't prevent that in the future.

"But whatever was on the ship must have been what started the whole thing."

"Please Walter, define 'thing.'"

"The infection." He goes on. The Blues had destroyed their Comm Tower. The Comm Tower. Tex's ship. Well, well, well…this was not so unusual, but not desirable at all. If what poor Henderson was saying was true, another AI has joined the Meta and it would be he that left that little message and the sacrificial lamb to deliver it.

"The CO sent a squad over... all the Blues were dead. They had killed each other."

"Why do you think they did that?" The Counselor asks. I can hear it in his voice, putting two and two together and I wish just once I knew who or what this man really was for he is too smart for my liking or my purpose. He could be an A.I.. If there's one thing I've learned in working with these people is that you never know what's coming next. You never know who's real and who's not. You especially never know who you can trust. You're only choice--trust no one. Trust nothing.

"I don't know. They had torn the radios out of their helmets and dismantled their computers. The CO said they were trying to build something. But I saw the stuff--no way. They were trying to break it. And there was another body in there too. Not a blue. Somebody else. Actually she looked like him."

I was right, he had noticed me. He was observant. Pity. That makes him a liability. I know firsthand what they do to liabilities.

"Don't worry about him for now Walter," The Counselor says smoothly, no longer enraptured by the tale but now brought back to his purpose. "Please continue."

"We brought all the equipment back to base and brought it online. And that's when the infection started for _us_." Of course. He wouldn't stay in just one body…not him. Never has, never will.

"The soldiers became... sick?" I am glad the visor hides my eye roll. If I have figured it out, I know the Counselor has. He probably knew from the moment the Recovery agents were sent to examine the simulation site at Valhalla.

"No. They just... they were different." I saw what had happened in my mind's eye as though I had been there. Men disobeying orders, becoming aggressive. Yet once apprehended they were fine…because he had moved on, jumping from host to host. He certainly dropped quite a hint…almost like he knew it was coming.

"Maybe they knew it was coming," says Henderson, echoing my thought. It was coming. It _is_ coming. Everything is coming Walter Henderson. You just don't know it yet.

"They knew _what_ was coming?" says the Counselor. He knows. Of course he does. He always fucking knows.

"At first we thought it was help," Walter says with a half-laugh. I sigh inaudibly. Yeah, a brutal, ruthless fiend who massacred an entire blue squadron, searched the bodies and attacked your "infected" friends. Yeah. Sound like help to me. Help like 'Here, let me help you to the gates of Hell!' "Eventually, it just started killing everything."

And it's far from over.

"Could you describe it for us, Walter?

Sure. White. Weird helmet. Hisses. Meaner than hell and intent on stealing A.I. and equipment. Too bad I'm not Walter. I'd have all the answers…except maybe how in the hell I'm going to pull this off. Henderson finishes his story, his voice breaking at the end. Tough kid. I'm surprised his weakness didn't show before now for show it always does…in all of us. These A.I…they all bring out the things we tuck so carefully into the backs of our mind. No one can escape it for no one can truly ever outrun their own head…themselves. It is a strange world when such a poetic phrase takes on true meaning, but it is far too true for my liking.

"…We're going to do everything we can to help you," says the Counselor as two Freelancer rookies come up behind the red soldier who isn't really a soldier. "Please, follow these men to your new quarters. You'll be with us as long as absolutely necessary." Henderson walks off as the Counselor says cryptically, "You have my word."

I could stop them. My gun is in my hand. Actually, now that I think of it, my gun always seems to be in my hand. Still, I could shoot out the screen, take out the rookies, and get Henderson out of here. Back home to his family, maybe a wife and a few kids, who knows. It would be so easy.

But I watch the rookies lead him away to a back room will they will silence him forever. I do nothing. I need the Counselor and Project Freelancer to think I'm with then. It's the only way I can pay them in kind for everything they have done to me and my fiends. So as I watch them lead Henderson away, what I feel isn't exactly guiltless...but neither is it remorse. It's a fee. A fee to get what I want with the bonus of fixing this mess for everyone. It's a high price. I'm willing to pay it.

I approach the screen as those mechanical eyes shift toward me. He may be man, but perpetually behind a screen to me, he is nothing more than a machine. And yet, machine's can't lie...but a man can. I plan on doing quite a bit of it too.

"Agent Washington, what do _you_ make of all this?" The Counselor asks.

"I think it sounds like exactly what _I_ encountered," I say. "Except it's stronger now, and becoming more so all the time."

"Does that concern you?" He's needling now, trying to figure me out. I'm not hard to puzzle, yet to someone who doesn't care to see, the most mundane mind can be a great mystery.

"It doesn't make me excited," I say dryly. Reveal nothing. Let him think he knows me and that will lead me to my purpose.

"You've been through a lot with this program, Agent Washington," he says, like it is inconsequential. He would think that. It wasn't his head or his life that was torn—no! /now's not the time to dwell on that. Just as that thought processes, I hear his next words "The Epsilon AI we assigned you—."

_Epsilon…_

Epsilon, Epsilon, EPSILON! Damn you and your master to hell, you unfeeling bastard. "Has already been discussed to death. I'm over it," I say it calmly, interrupting him. Inside I rage. Nothing—NO. THING.—will ever counter what Epsilon had done and what he can still do. Nothing can ever erase those memories. Memories of torture, pain, suffering. Pieces of myself falling away, crippling me, making me unable to fight back, to think, to rage…no…not me. The Alpha. Those memories…they are not my own, but those of the Alpha A.I. and the start of all of this.

The Counselor is still speaking, but I am now the machine, supplying the answers I know I must. "Now your...physical problems because of your last encounter…"

"I'm better now. Mentally and physically." Or at least I will be as long I don't think of Epsilon. As long as I forget that one moment where I was weak and had no control. The one thing that brought me too my knees.

"Our profile of you disagrees with your assessment."

"Look, the last mission I ran against this thing, I got shot in the back by my own partner," I say. South. Rage boils up again and I am glad for the visor that hides my face. She will go first and the Meta close at hand.

"Agent South…" the Counselor says, and like a sick joke, I see myself being shot on his screen. It's like he knows just were to hit so the poison spreads all the quicker. "We feel some, responsibility for that."

"Yeah you should," I snap. "If I hadn't had York's healing unit, I'd be dead now. So while this isn't ideal and I don't feel like sticking my neck out for you guys, if it puts me on a path that leads to _her_, you can trust me at least that far."

Because after I take care of her…it will be your turn. Your words may be poison, but lucky for me, I hold an antidote, one that you would never guess. I hold the memories, forced on me by Epsilon and that, Counselor and Director, will be your undoing.

"So you would say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger, and a need for revenge?" It's like he can read minds and I wonder yet again who this man is if he is even a man.

"More than you know." A peek. That's all I give them. A peek at my brain. Taunting them with the idea that I am so close yet so far beyond their reach. They don't know my pln. They won't know my plan. Not until it's finished.

"Excellent," says the Counselor. "Now that our agency is under investigation, the Director feels it is important for us to be as open as possible. With each other." There is a brief silence, villain facing down anti-hero, ach knowing that the camaraderie is illusion. It's straightforward without being spoken or acknowledged. Under different circumstances, I would fit right in. But I don't. Never have, never will.

"If our suspicions are correct, the Meta has made another addition: the Omega A.I."

"It was Omega and, _Tex_ right?" I pretend ignorance. Tex is a wild card. I don't know her role in this so I can't afford to let on too much. "The Meta doesn't leave much behind. It's gonna be hard to track." If the Meta really does have Omega, then I'm in for the fight of my life. Possibly my last.

"We think the best place for you to start, would be the Omega's last known location. The soldiers there have the most experience with our program," he says and something new enters his voice.

"I see. So I should contact these experts—."I start, but he interrupts.

"We do not like the term 'experts.'" Anger in his voice. No, not quite. Frustration? Annoyance?

"Because no-one really knows what our program is doing?" I pry.

I practically feel the hidden eye roll. "Let's just say the term "expert" is a little too... complimentary in this particular case." Oh exasperation. Wonder why…"Do you still have your old suit of armor?"

"Of course." I say automatically, still trying puzzle out his mood shift. Then my brain catches up with his question. "Wait... why?"

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Everytime you review, I kill a Tuckerite. Hit that button before they invade!


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, people like it! Awesome! This chapter is more filler, but we get to see a lighter side of wash. If anyone has seen the Recreation finale, they will agree that seeing the lighter side of Wash is essential now. (Let's just say Wash broke my heart...) I would like to say that updates may be a bit slow. I'm a senior working on my thesis and EiC of my paper and Radio president and a manager at my job and...well you get the idea. I'll try not to go any longer than two weeks between updates.

To the thanks!

Anonymous: Thanks for reading. I'll work on the typos. Also, I have not confused the characters. We do not meet the Director until chapter 19n of Reconstruction. The man in the first episode is the Counselor. No worries, it's can be confusing!

Fireproof666: It's way later than promised, but I did it. I had to mourn Wash, Donut, and Church. T_T. To answer your question, that's the last we will hear from the Meta until I write Recreation. But! as you'll see below, I add more people like I did with that one in my RT journal where Wash implants Epsilon. Enjoy!

Agent Texas: Caboose thanks you for the orange juice! I'm glad Wash is in character for you, I try my best to stick to RT's brilliant characterization. I'm still writing. I'm going all the way to the end and doing Recreation after so stick around for A LOT more.

Disclaimer: The wonderful Rooster Teeth owns everything. (And they can keep Wash. I HATE HIM! Watch the Recreation finale.)

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**Wash**

"Oh...GREAT!" I grumble. A box canyon in the middle of nowhere, no way in or out. The only reason there's a red base over there is because they've got a blue base over there, all for training experiments. I wonder why the soldiers (who aren't really soldiers) never thought it odd. I mean, did it never occur to them that it was illogical?. Under normal military operations, if one team pulled out and the other team took their base, they'd have two bases in the middle of a box canyon. Whoop-de-fucking doo.

But I digress. I look around the seemingly deserted place. "Hello? _Hello._ Anybody here?"

**Sarge**

Aha! I knew it! I done told command: the minute you pull us out, the blues call in reinforcements and try to take our base. Heh. Not on my watch! I can see that fellow over there, scheniving with that little yellow tramp. She would be Grif's sister: stupid as hell and probably extremely ugly. Or at least extremely disease ridden. Well she and that new fella won't be taking my base!

"Simmons!" I shout. "Grif!" Silence. "Where the hell--oh yeah." I sigh in jerks. Took off and left as soon as Command said to move out. They weren't thinking right! What if that wasn't command? what if the Blues tricked us, luring us out so they could take over our base! That's why the new guy is here!

And coming this way. "Lopez!" I shout, jumping down from the top of the base. "Set up the dummies! We got us a dirty blue heading this way!"

**Wash**

It's a new record--I have contracted a migraine in less than five minutes. that girl is the sorriest excuse for a soldier I have EVER seen in my life, and that's saying something. I walk away from Blue base, frustrated that I didn't get anything out of her. The best I could think top do was ill her. I want to. It would be so very easy. One shot and annoyance ends. Yet...I can't. I am bound by the radio in my head and the beacon in my armor. Once false move and I show my hand to Command and they mustn't know. Not yet.

"Come in Command," I say switching on my radio, glad my thoughts won't transmit.

"Hello Washington," says the woman on the other end. I automatically grit my teeth. It's not her personally, I'm sure she's just an average girl, conned into the director's beliefs and into this way of life. And yet I can't forget. I can't forget she helped South. I can't forget she left me for dead and left delta in the hands of a psychotic, lying bitch. I can't forget the betrayal. They removed Church's memories, not mine, but it's never really mattered to them, has it? They never got the distinction and never will.

"We have you," she continues. "How was the investigation at Blue Base?" I think of that yellow soldier and roll my eyes, my hand twitching on my gun. "Enlightening," I say lightly. "I'm going to try the red base now," I say, nearly at the base. "I'm hoping things there will be a little more-" There's a click, a loud springing noise and a cardboard cutout of a soldier in...is that pink armor? "...normal." I finish belatedly.

A gruff voice muffled slightly comes from some recording device. It's the accent that does it, it southern tones setting my teeth on edge. He sounds nothing like my enemy, and yet the knowledge that I am being threatened by another southern voice does not sit well with me. Maybe it's a by-product of Epsilon's damage...or maybe I'm as crazy as they think.

"Halt, in the name of the red-" the voice breaks off and coughs and, much to my horror, takes on a falsetto girl voice. "I mean, uh, lightish read army! This base is operating at full capacity. And if you come in here, you're gonna get in to a big uh...uh..._slap-fight!_ Don't come any further, ooh la la!"

I brush past the cardboard soldier with a sigh. "I'm gonna have to call you back," I say to command and completely cut off my radio, just in case. I won't stand for it this time. Either they give me my answers--

Another cutout springs from a rock, this one in mercifully more normal maroon armor. "This is your last warning," the recorded voice says. "Stay out! I love math! Your only hope of survival is to kiss my commander's ass!"

"What in the..." Ok...let me rephrase myself. These guys clearly aren't going to cooperate. I have a new philosophy: if anyone annoys me, I should be allowed to kill him. I will test my philosophy here. Either these idiots tell me what I want...or I shoot them. They may know something--anything!--and it's this hope that propels me forward, hoping to have seen the last of the cardboard-

It is a big, orange, bullet-hole ridden figure that halts that thought. "And this is another warning! I know the other warning was supposed to be last, but I never listen to orders, 'cause I'm too lazy and stupid! And ugly. Did I mention ugly?"

"This is gonna be a waste of time, I can tell already," I say to myself, reaching the base at last. It is no surprise when the next figure pops up from the ground. "Yah! Freeze intruder! Stop yer intrudin' right there."

"Who made these things?" I shout, at the end of my rope.

"I did!" shouts the one in front of me leveling his gun and snickering. "Wait, you're _real?_" I ask, thrown.

"Of course I am!" he says as though people routinely lay in the dirt, pretending to be a cutout and waiting to pop up from the ground. "You fell for a classic misdirection. I still got it. Heh heh."

The gun is in my hand. It would be so easy...just one shot and--

"Esta todo bien aquí?"

A soldier in brown steps out, jabbering in Spanish, which this guy seems to understand. The brown soldier has the high ground so I dare not attack the red guy.

"We're fine, Lopez," the red guy says. "Just caught myself a dirty Blue. How many does that make this week?"

"Uno."

"Yahtzee. We're on a hot streak!"

I snort derisively. Not only do they think I'm a blue, but they haven't even managed to shoot that yellow soldier yet. "Uh, I'm not actually a Blue," I inform him. "I'm from Command."

The magic word and he lowers his weapon, not that he was a threat. How blindly they follow their superiors, how unknowingly they march straight into the hands of those who just don't give a damn if they live or die.

**Sarge**

"Command, no kiddin'," I reply. Damn. Thought I finally nabbed myself a blue! Well this is a devil of a pickledillo! Who am I supposed to test my new shrink ray on now?! And why is here anyway, we aren't due for an inspection. I tell him as much. Gotta be sure I'm not being tricked.

"You're not," he responds. "I was hoping you could tell me about the soldiers transferred out of this outpost."

"You mean Grif and Simmons? Those traitors," I growl. Jumping at Command's orders when command was off their nut! "I told 'em not to go! The battle here isn't even over yet."

"Um, it looks over to me," says the soldier slowly, like I'm stupid. I'm not stupid, he's stupid! He talked to that stupid girl, he knows there's a blue so isn't it obvious why I'm still here!

"Not while there's a single Blue left in this canyon. Which there is: a single Blue. Victory, or _death_!" If I can just find someone willing to kill the girl. Maybe he'll do it...

"I see," he replies. Ok, this guy is a know-it-all to put Simmons to shame. What does he know about anything? He hasn't fought countless blue soldiers who were ready to kill ya as soon as look at ya. HE probably is some little office guy who can barely fire his weapon! Maybe I better explain things.

"That's why I refused my relocation orders. Obviously Command wasn't thinkin' clearly!" There! Take that back to your superiors.

"So, you're AWOL then." Uh..well...I didn't think about that now. Um...better...pretend I don't know what he means. Just in case.

**Wash**

Ok seriously. How does he not know what AWOL means. And why doesn't he just kill that little-

"Don't tell him anything until you talk to a lawyer! You have rights!"

-girl. for someone who isn't saying much, I feel strangely interrupted. And frustrated. And murderous.

"I'm not a cop!" I shout. But i will shoot you in the face if you don't SHUT UP!

"Hey! Beat it ya little tramp!" the red soldier shouts. "Ya see why I can't go?"

No. No I don't. "Why not just attack her and win then? It would take about ten seconds"

She shouts something else but I have removed her from my frame of giving a shit.

"That's the problem! I can't attack a girl. So we're locked, in an epic stalemate!"

"You're kidding me.' Wake up, soldier who isn't really a soldier. The rules are out the window now. You can kill a girl just as easily as a man with no face can destroy your mind and bring you to your knees for his own selfish ends.

"Plus she's cookin' somethin' up!" he says, shaking me from my bitterness. "And I gotta be ready. I hear her runnin' training ops every night! I see them out there with their glow sticks and their tribal drum beats: oom chicka oom chicka oom chicka oom chicka!"

The brown one suddenly makes a strange noise. We both turn to look at him. Did...did the Spanish soldier just beat box? The red soldier makes the stupid noise again and sure enough, there goes the brown one. Then, horror I never imagined takes place. The red guy continues his noise without ceasing, the brown man interjecting on rhythm. The warthog behind me inexplicably starts beeping in rhythm and the yellow girl adds her own whoop until they have concocted the techno song from hell and I am left with one conclusion: it would be a complete waste of time to kill them. I think I'll just plug myself instead.

Before I can follow through with my suicide, the teleporter makes a loud swooshing noise and mercifully they stop. I pause, just to be sure. "Well..." I say slowly. "This has been really..." Annoying? Enraging? Migraine-inducing? Enough to make me wish Epsilon was still in my head? "... informative." Yeah we will just go with the lie. "But I need to find someone who has experience with artificial intelligence."

"Ah right," the red guy nods. "You want Caboose then. He got infected for a little while I think."

Can it be? Is...is he actually providing me with tangible information? I'm so relieved I could spare their lives...but not quite. I'll come back for them another day. "Great. Caboose!" I say, unable to hide my relief. "Do you know where he is?"

"Of course!" the red leader says in highly affronted tones. "We intercepted the Blues' orders. I got it right here." He turns to his comrade. "Lopez! Get this guy the Blue Team relocation orders." He turns back to me with a sigh. "Lopez probably converted it in to Spanish, so they might be a little hard to understand."

I think of the yellow girl at Blue base, the card board cutouts, the Beat Box of hell itself, and the nonsensical ramblings of man deluded by this fake war for far too long.

Yeah," I say. "They wouldn't be the first thing today."

Top think I called them experts. I see your point, Counselor. The brown soldier bustles off to do as he bid. The red soldier prattles on about the blues but I'm not listening. I don't care. All that matters is that I find this Caboose character and proceed with my plan. That's all that matters in the plan. These crazy people don't matter, command doesn't matter, even South doesn't matter in the bigger picture. All that matters is that I get out of this cycle and Caboose is my ticket out.

Besides there is no way in hell he could be as stupid or as annoying as these guys.

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Every time you review, Donut gets a hug, and trust me, he needs them now. T_T.


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